


Love After Love

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Captivity, Compulsion, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Isolation, M/M, Monster!Jon, Post-Apocalypse, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: The Watcher's Crown happens, but Jon wants to keeps Martin safe and happy.He knows everything but understands nothing.





	Love After Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anysin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/gifts).



Jon doesn't want to make Martin wait. The Lonely had its claws deep into him once, and he's still sensitive about it.

And of course, there are no other people in the world Martin wants to meet. None that Jon would let him talk to, anyway. No one that is worthy to see Martin. The Beholding continues to spill people’s darkest secrets at random, but only Jon can touch Martin's. Not even other manifestations of his God can _see_ Martin whole.

Jon will protect him against this, against the sensory overload that would overwhelm him as it did to people just after the Watcher's Crown. He will protect Martin from everything.

It's a shame that Martin doesn't appreciate it.

"Jon!" he says, startled. He's always surprised. He can't know in advance when Jon will be here, it's a bit sad, but mostly beautiful.

Also, he's the only one left who calls him Jon.

Jon reaches out and takes a look at Martin's mind. For an instant, he can see himself through Martin's eyes. He doesn't care a lot about his appearance these days, which is maybe some kind of blasphemy. Martin reminds him. He can see his tired human face, and the crown of eyes floating in his wake. He can see his old scars, from every Entity, turned into new eyes of every colour.

He can see what he always forgets, how scary he is - maybe it's just Martin - how beautiful he is - this certainly is just Martin, but every point of view in this new world deserves to be known.

He can feel Martin's terror and yearning, his pain and awe and nostalgia. It feels weirdly good - it reminds Jon of when he felt this way about himself. But he's evolved now. He's better, happier. He wishes Martin could see this, so he would be happier too.

He holds out one hand to Martin, who recoils. 

"Oh, Martin," Jon whispers, smiling. "You don't have to pretend with me. You can't, actually. Don't be afraid. Come, and I'll kiss you."

Martin shivers and presses his back against the wall. Jon has a fond, condescending smile.

"Do you want to kiss me, Martin?" He doesn't really need the compulsion these days, he can just see. But sometimes - like here - someone needs him to see the truth in themselves.

Martin shivers again, in pleasure this time. The Beholding still loves him. His mind is softly caressed by the compulsion, not wrung dry.

"Yes," he answers. "Oh god yes. You're the man I fell in love with. You're the most beautiful person I have ever met. And I'm deeply ashamed of it, because you're also the creature who destroyed the world."

"Just let me make you happy," Jon orders. He closes the distance between them; Martin can no longer retreat. He touches his face with a hand covered in small orange eyes, observing the fast beat of his jugular. And he kisses him.

He knows how Martin loves to be kissed, how he loves to be touched and teased. He has him breathing fast and moaning in a few seconds, and he doesn't stop, until his sweet assistant is oversensitive clay under his hands and lips.

"I love you," Jon whispers. Martin comes apart. He clenches his fingers in Jon's shirt and starts crying.

"You're mine," Jon says again. It feels good, it warms his heart. "Are you mine, Martin?"

"Yes, I am," Martin answers weakly. He can't lie. No one can lie to Jon these days.

"So what do you want? Tell me!"

"I wish you had told me this before," Martin answers. "Before Peter and the Lonely and the Crown, before everything." His voice sounds very sad, even as he's still breathing heavily with need.

Jon feels angry, because Martin asks him for something he can't provide - he gave him this place, the softest bedclothes (with nothing on the ceiling to hang them from) and the best food and tea (but no knives or mugs that can be broken into sharp pieces) and all his favorite books (the poetry can be about dying, it's the only way Jon will let the End touch Martin) and a little dog that runs away every time Jon enters Martin's room. He feels weird jealousy at himself, at the almost-human he used to be. He is so much more powerful now, so much better, but Martin still misses the time when Jon didn't even see Martin's feelings, burning brighter than the sun.

Or maybe Jon is angry at himself because he wishes he had told Martin before. Sometimes he's not sure - sometimes he wishes he could use his compulsion on himself.

He could let his anger loose, show how terrifying he is, and all Martin could do would be to kneel at his feet, imploring his mercy from fates worse than death. 

He knows, with the certitude that the Eye gives him, that he could mark him. That he could strip Martin of his humanity, and force him to accept this new world as his faithful companion.

But he wants Martin to be happy.

Of course, he would be, except it would not be the same brand of happiness, he wouldn't be himself. Martin is not the type who gets giddy at knowledge and solved mystery. Martin... Jon thought all he needed was love. 

Martin is far bigger than him, but Jon easily takes him in his arms, carries him to his bed. Martin whimpers in his arms, but he doesn't protest. Then Jon pulls off Martin's shirt and looks at his soft body, his pale skin with its constellations of freckles. He knows every one of them by heart. 

He kisses the most sensitive part of Martin's neck, then he removes his own shirt, and so many more dark or dirty-green eyes are longingly watching Martin, until Jon hugs him hard, eyelashes batting against skin.

"Jon..." Martin whispers. He stops himself too soon.

Jon peeks at his mind again.

Martin deliriously wants him, and he knows he will have him, he knows that Jon will give him pleasure forever engraved in his mind. And still he's pained and guilty and _mourning_.

 _I wish you had told me this before_ , Martin said. _So maybe it would have ended differently_ he thought. And the jealousy is right back there, burning.

"Why won't you accept me?" Jon asks, trying to keep his anger cold. "Why won't you say you love me unless I ask first? Why can't you be happy for me? Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you." 

"I..." Martin stammers as Jon is playing all over his torso, licking the sensitive skin here. "I can't be happy if everyone else is hurting, Jon."

"You could, my love. You just don't want to."

Martin's breath catches in his throat, hearing Jon call him this. 

"I will make you forget," Jon promises - or rather, he will distract Martin enough. If the Eye could really erase memory, it would be long done. Jon finishes undressing Martin. He's beautiful, fully exposed, from his curled toes to his messy hair.

"No, please," Martin begs in a very quiet voice. But he doesn't mean it. His body is moving against Jon's, his cock flushed hard against his belly. 

Jon knows how to kiss, lick and bite, how to touch and pet and squeeze; he knows which sweet words Martin needs in his ear. He knows how to make him moan and beg and drown in pleasure. Martin comes hard under the light of being fully beheld. There are tears on his cheeks.

Jon just doesn't understand why it's not enough.

"What do you want?" he asks again. 

"I want to suck your cock," Martin answers. "Ah, sorry."

He shouldn't apologize, asking for something Jon can give, and it's not even for him to stop and leave. Jon pushes him hard into the soft mattress, then offers him the head of his cock. Martin licks and sucks like a famished man.

It's not Jon's favourite act, so he looks in Martin's mind again, bathes in it. He can read the desperate need to be useful, to be accepted, to be loved.

"You're doing so well, my love." he whispers. It's not about what he feels, though the warmth and softness are pleasurable, it's about what Martin feels, how close he is to being happy. One of the eyes on Jon's hips gets a good look at Martin's lost, delighted face.

But even here it's not enough, even here Martin sucks so hard with a desire to be choked, to be hurt, or at least to pretend to himself he can be hurt like everyone else.

It's okay, Jon can give this to him too, if it's what Martin needs. He thrusts hard in Martin's mouth, filling his eyes with tears; Martin coughs, tries to breathe.

"I will have you," Jon whispers. "I will have you whether you want it or not."

Martin relaxes; was it so easy? Is the idea of willingly surrendering to Jon his only objection? Jon wants to scream and to confront him with his hard truth. It's a burning fire on his tongue, but even more, he wants to give him what he needs.

So he removes his cock from Martin's mouth, then slaps his face and pins him to the bed. 

He fucks him relentlessly, but with the same tender attention with which he touched him before. He will extract inhuman pleasure from him, again, and exhaust him to sleep. This he can give. Only this, and what's left of his love, that Martin resents himself for wanting.

Then he can cuddle with Martin's sleeping body, tuck a sweaty lock of hair besides his ear, and look at his bared soul. All the warmth that could have been for Jon if he had asked sooner - under lock, and Jon can't have it if he refuses to break him.

(Maybe one day he won't be able to resist and he will break him. Watching should be enough, but it's always been more complicated, with Martin.)

"Sleep well, my love," he whispers, so Martin can't hear him. "I wish you dreams of times before, when love was blind, when you could look at someone without knowing all the dirty ways they're likely to hurt you."

He can't stay all night, regardless of how much he wants it. He needs his God, and his God needs him. There is overwhelming, infinite love between them, but it's also very cold.

"I can't be happy if you are hurting, Martin," he says again. Not that Jon deserves happiness that much. It's not a point he would dare to highlight if Martin was not sleeping. "But it's even worse if you're not here. I won't let you escape. I won't let you die."

Then he sighs, locks the door behind him, and wishes there was one person in this world with happiness in their soul, so he could remember what it feels like and stop doing it all wrong.


End file.
